


Celebration is in Order

by ifitwasribald



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: M/M, Oral Sex, Public Sex, porn with minimal plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-08
Updated: 2012-07-08
Packaged: 2017-11-09 10:53:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/454653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifitwasribald/pseuds/ifitwasribald
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wherein Tony "drops his fork," and Bruce entirely fails to avoid making a scene.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Celebration is in Order

It turned out that, contrary to idiom, the 347th time was the charm, at least when it came to implementing Bruce’s most recent theory on the stabilization of electrostatic inputs into the new vibranium reactor. Bruce let out a long breath and smiled in satisfaction. Tony, who’d grown bored of Bruce’s methodical persistence sometime around the 168th attempt, looked up from the project he’d been fiddling with. Bruce watched as Tony’s eyes darted over the readouts, his lips parting slightly as he recognized the patterns and their significance. Bruce cocked an eyebrow at Tony, who let out a slightly age-inappropriate whoop and vaulted a workbench to grab Bruce for an decidedly age-appropriate kiss.

“Congratulations Dr. Banner, you are as brilliant as advertised. A little slow, maybe...”

Bruce chuckled. “Considering that half the delay was the setback from following your dazzling intellect down a rabbit hole...”

“A fascinating rabbit hole,” Tony interjected.

“...I wouldn’t throw stones. And that rabbit hole was less fascinating for those of us actually running the tests.” Bruce paused for a moment, and then looked back to the screen and grinned. “Not bad for a week’s work.”

“Celebration is in order.”

“I’m liking this celebration so far,” Bruce noted, and pulled Tony back to him. Their lips met in a deep kiss, Tony’s mouth hot and firm as it always was against Bruce’s lips. Bruce made a small humming sound deep in his throat, which skipped up a few notes when he felt Tony’s hands slide down to his hips, and further, grabbing his ass hard in the way that never failed to send jolts of electricity straight to his cock.

A discrete, yet somehow amused-sounding, cough interrupted them. Tony broke this kiss and looked over Bruce’s shoulder. “Don’t mind us, Pepper, I’m sure Bruce likes an audience.” Bruce sputtered a little at that, face flushed with what he was pretty sure was embarrassment.

Pepper ignored that and smiled warmly at Bruce. “Congratulations. J.A.R.V.I.S. let me know about your experiment.” She raised up a tray of champagne glasses with a flourish. “I made a reservation at L’extrémité in an hour so the two of you could celebrate properly.” And Bruce wasn’t sure, but he thought that there was a slightly disapproving emphasis on that last word.

“Uh, I don’t know,” Bruce began, uneasy even in his present, quite satisfied, state of mind about the prospect of a dinner, out in the bustling city, for no reason but their own celebration. He was quite a risk to take for no particular reason. “We could celebrate with take-out again,” he suggested hopefully.

“Again being the operative word. Get that stick out of your delectable ass,” and here Tony squeezed the aforementioned anatomy. “You’re going to have to rejoin society eventually. Besides, L’extrémité really is fantastic. They do this thing with foams--it doesn’t sound appetizing, I know, but it’s incredible.”

“And they don’t do takeout,” Pepper noted, giving Tony a look. “We know--he’s tried.”

“Apparently it doesn’t travel well. I said I’d fly it home and everything, but the chef there--a real stickler. You’d like her.” Tony turned to Pepper. “You are a gem.”

“Don’t I know it. You two have a lovely dinner.” And if Pepper sounded a little mocking on that, she didn’t when she added, to Bruce, “You really have earned it.”

 

So it was that an hour later Tony and Bruce arrived at the bustling restaurant, Tony looking as dapper as he usually did when he put in the slightest effort, with Bruce on his arm managing to look simultaneously awkward and stunning in a tailor made suit that he’d never before had occasion to wear.

“Mr. Stark, a pleasure as always. It’s been too long,” the maitre d’ greeted them. “I was so pleased when Ms. Potts called. And Dr. Banner, an honor.” The man was good at his job, Bruce thought to himself, he very nearly sounded like he meant it. “Your table is this way.”

They were quickly seated in a richly upholstered booth in one corner, a lovely view of the city skyline glittering behind them. Bruce picked up a menu and skimmed through it. None of the terms were unfamiliar, but a number were concepts that would never have occurred to him to apply to food.

“We don’t actually have to order,” Tony noted. “I told you, I know the chef. Besides, you’ve got better things to look at than the menu.” He waggled his eyebrows in a way that would have been completely ridiculous on a face that was even slightly less attractive.

“You know, before I met you, I’d read that Tony Stark had an ego. I can’t imagine it’s often that the tabloids so badly undershoot the mark.”

Tony just smirked, and laid a hand on Bruce’s thigh under the table. “Ooops. I seem to have dropped my fork.” He ducked down under the table.

“Your fork is right there. Quite a few, actually--is there really another?”

Before Bruce could do a quick count of his and Tony’s respective arsenals of cutlery, he felt Tony’s hand on the inside of his thigh and realized, as he probably should have before, that a fork was not what the man was looking for.

“Ok, cute. That’s very cute... ahh, OK, very funny.” Bruce felt Tony’s hand on his belt, and his zipper sliding down. He reached down with one hand to try to stop Tony, but completely failed to obscure the fact that he was suddenly hard--about as hard as he could remember being, in point of fact. His face was burning, and he briefly spared a thought on how it’s possible for blood to rush simultaneously in two opposite directions before Tony’s fingers pushed past Bruce’s to curl around his cock.

“Funny, really? Not exactly what I was going for.” Tony murmured, just loud enough for Bruce to hear over the low hum of conversation from other patrons of the restaurant.

Bruce felt Tony’s hand gently guiding his cock out of his pants and sucked in a quick breath as Tony’s tongue flicked over the head. Tony’s lips followed soon after, and Bruce was just about ready to give in and completely ignore what the restaurant full of people might think of them, when the waitress appeared at his side.

“I hope you and Mr. Stark are enjoying yourselves,” she told him brightly. “I do hope Mr. Stark is well?”

“Oh, yes. He, um, he’s just taking a call.” Bruce realized that his hands were gripping the table hard enough that his white knuckles were clearly visible to the waitress, and carefully disengaged, moving his hands to his sides. “But he said. . .” one conveniently disengaged hand threaded itself through Tony’s hair to try to keep him from teasing Bruce’s cock for just that one moment, “he said that the chef was sending out some... things?” Bruce trailed off, not at all certain how to behave in a restaurant like this one even if your boyfriend wasn’t under the table attempting to give you a blow job.

“Yes of course, Dr. Banner. She’ll be starting you on . . .”

And Bruce has an excellent memory, for the most part, when he’s not the other guy, at any rate. But on pain of death he would have been unable to recall a single item of the menu planned out for them, probably because his considerable attention was directed entirely on the fact that Tony Stark’s lips were gliding up over the skin of his cock.

“...and a peppermint-avocado glaze,” the waitress continued. “Finally...”

“Yes, wonderful, perfect, thanks very much.” Bruce wasn’t sure if his voice sounded strained, but frankly that was low on his list of priorities just now. Of course, items one through several thousand of his priorities involved focusing on exactly how good it felt to have his cock surrounded by the hot wet heat that was Tony’s mouth.

The waitress took the thanks as the dismissal that Bruce intended, and fled the table. 

“Ok,” Bruce murmured, and then made a higher pitched sound than he would have preferred to admit, before continuing. “I can’t wait to get you home and finish this,” he told Tony, feeling only slightly stupid for talking to the tablecloth. “But maybe enough for now?”

Tony slowly--very slowly--drew back until only the head of Bruce’s cock remained in his mouth. Tony’s tongue swirled around the sensitive foreskin, dipped quickly into his slit, and finally was replaced by a moment of exquisitely sweet suction before he released Bruce completely. “I don’t hear you complaining.” Tony paused for a moment to take in the slight noise Bruce had made as he’d released him. “Well, not until now.”

“So help me Tony, you are absurdly, excessively talented, and I wish to whatever deity doesn’t hang around your apartment wreaking havoc with his hammer that we were alone right now. But we’re in public, in a restaurant, where they know you, and--”

Whatever else Bruce had to say about the situation was lost to the record, as Tony pressed his tongue against the underside of Bruce’s dick and ran it up to the head before swallowing Bruce to the root.

Bruce took a deep breath in, and tried to release it in the calm, controlled manner that he’d practiced on any number of occasions, but ended up letting out a slight whine instead.

It was at that moment that the waitress returned, with two plates of what did indeed look like some type of foam. She launched into an explanation of the ingredients or methods of preparation or some such, until Bruce cut her off again with a curt “thank you.” She frowned briefly. “Mr. Stark isn’t back yet? I hope he hasn’t blown you off, a handsome man like you.” And it was pretty clear that this was her on autopilot, a slightly flirtatious way of interacting with a lone customer, but the way she paled after a moment of silence made it equally clear that she’d suddenly remembered to whom she was speaking. She left without another word, and Bruce was ashamed to find himself not just relieved but a little bit satisfied by her reaction.

The thing about shame is that it doesn’t last all that long when you can feel Tony Stark’s throat practically fucking undulate around the head of your cock as he swallows.

Bruce’s eyes closed and he let himself focus on the sensation. He let out a groan, and some part of his mind hoped that it wasn’t audible, but most of him was busy silently screaming for more. Just a little bit more--he felt heat pooling in his groin and knew it wouldn’t be long.

And Tony, gorgeous, perverse Tony, must have known it too, because he pulled back and licked playfully at Bruce’s head.

“Tony,” Bruce groaned, eyes still closed, because if he looked he might realize what a terrible idea this was, that people were looking, that this was embarrassing and almost certainly illegal. Bruce wasn’t generally a man who did what he wanted and damn the consequences--he couldn’t afford to be. Just this once, he told himself silently, and muttered “if you don’t finish what you started...” 

“Listen to you, begging for it in a room full of people.” Tony clasped one of Bruce’s hands and guided it to the back of Tony’s head. “I like it.”

Tony bobbed his head over the length of Bruce’s shaft, swallowing around him again, pulling back until Bruce laced his fingers into Tony’s hair, whispering hoarse curses, and totally blind to his surroundings, attending only to the hot, slick warmth and clever pressure of Tony’s mouth.

As Bruce tipped over the edge, he saw sparks behind his eyes and heard a great crash. And as he shuddered through his climax, still intent on the way Tony’s lips felt around him, it didn’t occur to him that the sensations were more than metaphor.

 

It was several minutes, or seconds, or very possibly days, before Bruce could bring himself to open his eyes and focus on his surroundings. It was, he realized, much quieter than a restaurant at that time of night ought to be. Also less full of diners, and more full of Bruce’s concerned-looking compatriots.

It slowly dawned on Bruce what he must have looked like since Tony’s little disappearing trick. And, well, fair enough, he’d surely looked like what he was--a man desperately trying, and failing, to exert self-control. Bruce would be the first to admit that that wasn’t a good look on him.

The restaurant appeared to have been evacuated in remarkably short time, and long experience told Bruce that there was no doubt a sizable army just outside.

For the moment, Bruce was more concerned with the smaller and far more formidable force inside the restaurant.

Natasha was the closest, near enough to speak softly while allowing what Bruce was sure was a very carefully calibrated distance. "What happened? The maitre d' told Pepper that Tony just left you here. He was... concerned."

Bruce blinked. He opened his mouth to reply, failed to come up with anything he was willing to say, and closed it again.

"Quarrels are an excellent opportunity for ‘make up sex,’" Thor offered helpfully. "Or so Jane has informed me."

No one seemed to know what to say to that.

"What did Tony do?" Steve left the phrase "this time" to be inferred from his tone.

The corner of Bruce's mouth quirked a little at this. "Um..."

From across the room, Clint began to chuckle. Natasha's eyes flicked to him, and, following his gaze, back to Bruce's table. Her lips formed a silent "oh" before settling into a smirk. Bruce closed his eyes and brought a hand up to rub the bridge of his nose as Tony grabbed the table's edge and pulled himself up to a sitting position so close that he was practically in Bruce's lap. "Do tell them what dastardly deeds I'm up to now," Tony suggested, his eyes dancing.

A look of understanding crossed Thor's face, and he grinned broadly. Steve rolled his eyes, and if he expected the gesture to distract from the flush across his cheeks he was sorely disappointed.

Tony's eyes widened in a remarkably unconvincing innocence. "I dropped my fork," he explained. "Retrieval was more involved than anticipated." He grinned, and gestured to a nearby and now-vacant table. "You guys should stay--this place is great. They do this thing with foam..." Tony gestured at the first course, which had in the interim melted into sad little puddles.

Steve was the first to head for the door.

Natasha arched a perfect eyebrow, but smiled warmly. "Thanks, but I think I'll leave you boys to your fun."

Thor peered at the puddles of ex-foam until Natasha hooked her arm around his and dragged him out of the restaurant. Clint turned and fell into step with them on their way out, pausing to give Bruce and Tony a jaunty little salute as he stepped through the door.

Bruce looked around the deserted dining room. "We should...probably go.”

"Do you know how much I'm going to end up paying for all this?" Tony gestured at the vacated tables. "We're finishing dinner. Besides,” he smirked, “that was just the first course. Wait ‘til dessert.”


End file.
